


holding on 'til sunup

by Anonymous



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dogs, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Damian entrusts Dick with his most prized possession: Titus the Great Dane. So of course something goes horribly wrong. It's just lucky that Dick has Jason around to help him keep his shit together.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50
Collections: Anonymous





	holding on 'til sunup

**Author's Note:**

> My sister keeps telling me that I need to write Nightwing angst. I just got tired of resisting the force so here we are. This is sorta inspired by that one episode of Gilmore Girls where Lorelai's dog gets sick, if that rings a bell

Titus. One of the great Roman emperors. A worthy soldier.

Twitching uselessly on Dick Grayson’s floor.

Obviously Titus the ancient Roman is not on Dick’s floor. Titus the Great Dane, however, is. And Dick cares a hell of a lot more about this stupid dog than he does some old dude from out of a middle schooler’s history book. 

Dick loves dogs, but more than dogs, he loves his brother, Damian. That’s why it feels so shitty that the one time-- _ the one time! _ \--he has managed to convince Damian that he is a competent petsitter, the poor thing is lying on the hardwood floor, unmoving. 

Not for the first time, Dick nudges at the dog’s snout with a handful of kibble. It whines pathetically. 

“Titus,” Dick begs, “buddy. Please be okay, you’ve got so much to live for…” 

Titus’s chest heaves up and down with a tremendous effort, and Dick can hear the shallow breaths he steals from the air.

“Vets, vets,” Dick mumbles to himself, pulling the cell phone from his pocket. His hand shakes slightly in his panic as he runs a Google search for vets in Gotham. It’s nearly midnight, so the odds that one will be open are pretty slim. The worst case scenario Dick can think of is him sprinting over to some poor vet’s house as Nightwing and demanding that somebody take care of this dog. 

Well, no, Dick corrects himself, that’s not the  _ worst  _ case scenario. 

The more Dick Google searches, the more he panics. Most of the vet’s offices in Gotham are closed. The few vets he can get a hold of are sympathetic but tired, telling him that the best he can do until the morning is to offer him a comfortable spot to rest and access to water (but absolutely do  _ not  _ force him to drink or have him drink  _ too  _ much). 

Oh, and suffice to say that Googling Titus’s symptoms do  _ not  _ make matters less dire. 

“Buddy,” says Dick, laying a tentative hand on Titus’s chest. His forearm twitches slightly and he gives a low, miserable groan. “You good?” 

The dog does not answer. 

“Oh my God, Damian is going to kill me,” Dick mumbles to himself. “He’s going to  _ kill  _ me. And the poor dog, shit…” 

Then Dick feels his eyes begin to sting.  _ I can’t even keep a  _ houseplant  _ alive. He never should have let me take care of his dog, I should never have made him. _

“I’m so sorry, Titus,” Dick whispers to the dog, “and Damian, too.” 

Then the front door swings unceremoniously open, and none other than Jason Todd struts through, a wide and casual smile over his face. 

“Hey, babe,” he calls. “You should have seen the robber out there. He thinks he’s a supervillain or some shit, but his superpower is just onion sou--” He stops upon seeing Dick’s predicament. “That’s a dog,” he notes. 

Dick nods weakly. “N-not for long.” 

Jason crouches down besides Dick, surveying Titus. “Yup, not good,” he concludes. Then, “wait. Dude. Are you crying over the dog?” 

“Yes!” Dick snaps. “It’s not even my dog, it’s Damian’s, and if the dog dies he’s n-never speaking to me again.” 

“It’s not even your fault,” Jason argues. “Sometimes dogs get sick. Especially old ones. How old is this guy?”

“Not even that old!” Dick wipes a hand over his eyes. It comes away wet. “I know you think it’s silly, and that I should just t-take him to get the shot to put him out of his misery, buy Damian a new dog and pretend it never happened…” 

“Hey, I’m not  _ that  _ heartless,” Jason objects. He puts a steady hand between Dick’s shoulder blades. 

Then, Titus goes still. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit,” curses Dick. He puts a hand to Titus’s chest, instantly relaxing when his snout jerks irritatedly upwards. “Oh, thank God.” 

“Hey. Buddy,” Jason addresses Titus, “you’ve got this, okay? Just a couple hours longer, hold out a couple of hours longer.” He strokes along Titus’s back. 

“What do I do?” Dick unclenches his fists. An avalanche of dog food pours out of his stiff hand. 

“Call Damian,” Jason tells him seriously. “He’ll want to know.”

“I can’t do that!” Dick stiffens at the very thought of telling his little brother that his beloved childhood puppy is going to need to be dug a grave soon. 

“Damian knows animals,” Jason assures Dick. “He won’t blame you, man. It’s just...dogs being dogs. And he might take some stress out on you at first, but eventually he’ll come to terms with the fact that you were just at the wrong place at the long time. And that you did all you could.”

Dick lays his head in his hands with a muffled groan. “Why does everything I touch die?”

“Like what?” Jason continues to absentmindedly stroke the fur along Titus’s back. 

“All of my houseplants, Jason. Every single one of them. The goldfish I had as a kid. So many of the people I try to save end up dead.  _ You _ , for God’s sake.” 

The hand on Dick’s back wraps around his shoulder and pulls him into Jason’s. “Hey, man,” Jason comforts, “it’s not your fault. It’s not on you to keep  _ everything _ alive.” 

Dick turns his head and presses his face into Jason’s neck as he says, distressed, “okay, but it sort of is. I-I’m Nightwing. And, as long as Damian’s gone, this dog is my responsibility.  _ Mine _ . Also I’m a cop. So, there. It  _ is _ on me. It’s my literal fucking  _ job.  _ And I’m failing miserably.” 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think I died in spite of you. As opposed to, like, because you had the touch of death or whatever.” 

“How do you know?”

“Well, for one, because I’m remarkably alive. As we speak. But also, I feel my best when I’m with you, dude. You’re not death. You’re life. You just surround yourself with dying things and get upset when you can’t fix  _ all  _ of them.”

“I can’t fix  _ any  _ of them, as far as I’m concerned.” Dick mumbles, pulling gently away from Jason’s neck so that he’s just resting his head on his shoulder. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you damn well saved me,” says Jason decisively, pulling Dick in for a gentle kiss. “You know what? It’s going to be scary, but I think if we just wait long enough, we can get this dog to the vet. Okay?” 

Dick gives a shaky nod.

“Okay, good,” Jason concludes. “In the meantime, I’ll, uh, make us some tea.”

Dick takes another look at Titus. It’s some consolation that he doesn’t look  _ quite _ as miserable anymore. His eyes have closed where they were in a sort of unsettled squint before. Dick lays a hand on top of Titus’s paw, trying to channel what Jason has said:  _ you’re life _ . If he can somehow keep pulling breath through Titus’s wet snout, his heart beating, maybe Dick’s whole time as a life-saver will have been worth it. 

Jason settles down next to Dick bearing two mugs of tea. He silently hands one to Dick. Dick looks at the tag on the teabag. Oolong. 

“It’s got lots of antioxidants,” says Jason with a tight smile. 

Maybe Titus will live. Maybe he won’t. For now, all Dick can do is wait, and he’ll just have to be okay with that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like people would be seriously upset with me if I killed Titus just to make Dick sad so I feel like I should clarify that he probably lived lol


End file.
